Sea shanties and maritime music

I remembered that sailors still sing in chorus while they work, and even sing different songs according to what part of their work they are doing. And a little while afterwards, when my sea journey was over, the sight of men working in the English fields reminded me again that there are still songs for harvest and for many agricultural routines. And I suddenly wondered why if this were so it should be quite unknown, for any modern trade to have a ritual poetry... And at the end of my reflections I had really got no further than the sub-conscious feeling of my friend the bank-clerk—that there is something spiritually suffocating about our life; not about our laws merely, but about our life. Bank-clerks are without songs, not because they are poor, but because they are sad. Sailors are much poorer.

G. K. Chesterton, Tremendous Trifles, 1909

This Day in History (February 29, 1908)

This Day in History (January 8, 1806)

The death of Lord Nelson was a national tragedy like no other for England. "From Greenwich to Whitehall Stairs, on the 8th of January, 1806, in one of the greatest Aquatic Processions that ever was beheld on the River Thames" drifted the royal shallop (barge). The event is referenced in the modern lament, Carrying Nelson Home. Nelson is mentioned in nearly a dozen other songs.

Try a random shanty sampling

The Jamestown Homeward Bound
Forecastle song

The farmer's heart with joy is filled when his crops are good and sound,
But who can feel the wild delight of the sailor homeward bound?
For three long years have passed away since we left freedom's shore
Our long-felt wish has come at last, and we're homeward bound once more.
Ch: For three long years have passed away since we left freedom's shore
Our long-felt wish has come at last, and we're homeward bound once more.

To where the sky is as clear as the maiden's eye who longs for our return,
To the land where milk and honey flows and liberty it was born.
So fill our sails with the favoring gales, and with shipmates all around
We'll give three cheers for our Starry flag and the Jamestown homeward bound.

To the Mediterranean shores we've been, and its beauties we have seen,
And Sicily's grand and lofty hills and Italy's gardens green,
We've gazed on Mount Vesuvius, with its rugged slumbering dome;
Night is the time in that red clime when the sailor thinks of home.

We've strayed round Pompeii's ruined walls, and on them carved our names,
And thought of its ancient beauties past and vanished lordly dames,
And gazed on tombs of mighty kings who oft in battle won,
But what were they all in their sway with our brave Washington?

And now we have arrived in port and stripping's our last job,
And friendly faces look around in search of Bill or Bob.
They see that we are safe at last from the perils of the sea,
Saying, "You're welcome, Columbia's mariners, to your homes and liberty."

The Wreck of the Ellen Munn
Forecastle song

Oh, it happened to be on Christmas Day,
"Twas from King's Cove we sailed away,
As we were bound up to Goose Bay
The Ellen to repair.
When we left the wind was down,
We headed her up for Newman's Sound,
The Ellen, my boys, she did lose ground,
Fell off for Little Denier.

The wind veered to the west-sou'west
And Barrow Harbour we could not fetch.
The gale grew blustering down the retch -
'Twas near the close of day.
So to Dark Hole we ran her in,
And waited there for a half-free wind,
The twenty-seventh to begin
Our anchors for to weigh.

Next morning then our hearts were light,
We ran her up for the standing ice
Thinking that all things were right
As you may understand.
Till from below there came a roar:
"There's water up to the cabin floor."
The signals of distress did soar
For help from off the land.

The men into the hold did make,
The women to the pumps did take
In hopes that they might stop the leak
And beach her in a trice.
But water still came tumbling in -
Against the flow we could not win.
The Skipper's voice rose o'er the din:
"All hands get on the ice."

Now to our very sad mistake
We found the ice was very weak.
We had to carry and to take
The children to the ground.
Poor Tommy Rolland scratched his head:
"For God's sake, Skipper, save me bed!"
Immediately the words were said
The Ellen she went down.

Early next morning we bid adieu
To bring down Tommy Rolland's crew.
We landed them in Plate cove too
For to walk down the shore.
Repeating often he did say:
"I'll never be caught up in Goose Bay.
If I ever get out of it today
I'll trouble it no more."

Tom Holloway lives on Goose Bay shore
His father and two brothers more -
All hardy men to ply an oar -
Westward that day did wend.
A pair of boots, a barrel of flour
They salvaged working half an hour,
And leather for Joe Horney for
Susannah's boots to mend.

And now to close take this advice:
Don't ever trust the new-made ice.
'Twill hold and squeeze you like a vice,
'Twill shave your planks away,
Till finally they're cut so thin
Through your seam the seas come in,
And when a sea voyage you begin,
Don't sail on Christmas Day.